


Greysnow/Snowjoy ficlets

by theonsfavouritetoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: American Football, Feeding, Gendry is hot without a shirt, Irrumatio, Jealousy, Jon obviously not, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plot? No, Robb is a good friend, Secret Sex, Sex Toys, Theon is a huge jerk, Theon knows something, Valentine's, Various ficlets, don't become dealers kids, drug selling, mentions of drug use, minimal bondage, more PWP, shameless fluff, so much sap, that's a fancy word for fucking someone's mouth, very light bondage (very)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-04-25 00:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14366883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: And one for my flagship :)





	1. Lover's Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was a v-day fic for another friend. For those who know it, it's set in the world of "Summer King", about a year before SK started

The morning starts the same as every Lover's day since Jon was old enough to care. Which he doesn't. He's greeted at the breakfast table by a blushing but undeniably smug Robb, the table at his place littered with a dozen little gifts.

Greyjoy's place looks even worse, but then Jon has always suspected Greyjoy pays for half of the stuff himself. Can't have the lordling outdo the biggest slut in Winterfell when it comes to Lover's day gifts.

At Jon's place there's the same thing as every year, a couple of cakes Arya has saved for him from her dinner the night before.

On his way to his seat Jon ruffles her hair and lets a candied apple drop in front of her. That's a tradition too, as well as the lemon cakes he and Robb have made for Sansa every year.

Jon eats in silence, trying not to look at Robb surveying his bounty or listen to Greyjoy counting his out loud. He shouldn't be surprised. He's neither a future lord nor a handsome ward, just a sullen bastard shying away from every girl that dares to come near him.

"Aw, Snow... if you'd smile a little, or maybe even have a fumble with an easy wench here and there I'd bet your place would look as good as Robb's. You're not that ugly, you know?"

"Leave him be, Theon." Robb comes to Jon's aid, as always.

When Greyjoy has left, pretending he's got too much to carry, Robb looks at Jon with worried eyes.

"He's right, though. Maybe you should just... I don't know... at least flirt a little with the girls?"

Jon doesn't even dignify this with a reply. He spends the rest of the day hacking away at dummies and sulking alone in the pools. Robb and Greyjoy have gone riding and Jon only sees them again at dinner.

When he sits down he sees something lying next to his plate. Carefully he takes it in hand. It's a little silk pouch and when he opens it he discovers it's filled with candied violets.

When Robb and Greyjoy finally show up Jon glares at Robb as impressively as he can.

"Thanks for the pity gift, Stark."

"Pity gift?" Robb looks absolutely clueless. "What do you mean?"

"This!" Jon presents the little pouch. "But I get it, you're trying to make me feel better. Thanks, I guess," he adds grudgingly.

"Those aren't from me."

Jon squints at Robb in suspicion but his eyes are honest. Maybe... maybe it's really a gift? Maybe there's really someone thinking of him.

Jon only huffs instead of an answer, but after dinner he leaves with a smile and flushed cheeks, tightly clutching his first real Lover's day gift.

As soon as he's out of earshot Robb chuckles softly.

"You and your soft heart. Seriously, Theon. Are you ever going to tell him?"

"Over my cold, dead body." Theon sighs. "He wouldn't believe me if I did anyway."


	2. Closeted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from my dear @half_life, thank you :D

The hand suddenly clamping over his mouth out of thin air has Jon's back go rigid. He doesn't dare to make a move, or a sound. The last time this has happened, he'd thought it was an intruder and started kicking and hollering at the top of his lungs.

Had given Theon a hell of a fright and had the whole clan come running to his aid, only to find Theon on the floor, holding his aching ribs, and Jon against the wall, the level of embarrassment plain on his flushed face. Theon hadn't talked, or done _anything_ to him for weeks, angry with Jon for thwarting his game.

So now Jon keeps as quiet and still as possible, in case it's Theon again. And well, if it actually should happen to be a real intruder this time - he can always round him up later.

"Better," the familiar, smug voice whispers in his ear, and while there's a surge of relief flooding through Jon - no one likes an intruder after all - he can't quite suppress the chills running down his spine... in anticipation.

The chills worsen when long fingers move the hair away from the back of his neck, brushing faintly over his skin. Is he crazy, Jon thinks, to start when they're still out in the hallway? It's early afternoon, and while he's normally the first to be home, the others won't be too far behind him.

Now the path of the fingers is followed by a hot, wet tongue, and Jon has to keep a tight grip on himself to not break out of Theon's hold and just fucking shove his own tongue down his throat. But that's not how the game is supposed to go.

"I'm going to let go of your mouth now, I have big plans with it." Theon's voice sounds strained, no wonder, really. They haven't had a chance to play in a month or so. "If you scream, you'll regret it."

The hand over his mouth vanishes and Jon draws a deep, shaky breath.

"Not here," is all he manages before the hand is firmly back in place, harder than before.

"Sshh!!!"

The sound of keys jiggling in the doorlock has Jon go rigid again, half in alarm, half in disappointment. No matter who's coming home now, the game has to be called off again. And then Jon does make a sound, he yelps in surprise when he's dragged backwards, into the little closet where they keep the winter coats over summer.

It's completely dark, his face is pressed into Sansa's fake fur coat, and he's as excited and aroused as ever. Jon tries to listen labouriosly. Cat, it seems, with Arya.

_Don't come in here, don't come in here..._

His silent prayer is disturbed by deft hands opening his belt. He realises Theon is still plastered against his back, subtly grinding against Jon's ass. 

 _What???_ Not daring to make even a beep, Jon tries to swat Theon's hands away, with the success of them pulling his jeans down along with his underwear. And fuck, if he isn't still hard as a rock, despite his aunt and cousin squabbling over something just outside the closet door.

With an appreciative hum Theon wraps a hand around Jon's cock, and Jon has to bite his lip quite hard to stop himself from moaning. _Fuck you, Greyjoy_ , he thinks vehemently. Theon's delight - and Jon's chagrin - at the discovery that he's loud as fuck in bed has never really ceased, and now Jon's predicament seems to amuse the douchebag very much.

"Sshh," he breathes against Jon's neck again, his body trembling with quiet laughter while his hand is still firmly wrapped around Jon's cock.

And then the asshole starts moving his hand in a way he knows Jon loves, his mouth latches onto Jon's neck, his other hand fumbles his own pants open. With no fabric between his naked arse and Theon's perfect cock - not that he'd ever tell him that, he's full of himself as it is - Jon can't help involuntarily pushing back against it, whimpering lowly.

He should turn around, stuff his mouth with cock and get Theon off like that while he takes care of himself - that way he would at least have to be quiet. But that's not what Jon needs right now, not what he wants Theon to do to him. And the fucking prick knows that all too well.

Theon's fingers find their way to Jon's mouth again, only now he shoves them inside while he starts dragging his dick over Jon's arse and his mouth is still working a bruise into Jon's neck. _Fuck it_ , Jon thinks as he closes his eyes and starts to suck.

If he's right about where exactly these fingers will go very shortly, he better get them as slick as possible. Theon lets go of Jon's skin with a hiss, a slight dampness on his arse telling Jon that this won't take long. Well, good, he's been needing some for quite a while, too.

Finally Theon deems his fingers wet enough, with a slick sound he pulls them out and without any further ado shoves two of them up Jon's arse. Jon can't smother a startled moan at that, but the Gods must take pity on him today.

There's a loud bang as the front door flies open, drowning out Jon's moan, and then Rickon's loud voice starts shouting outside, followed by Bran's, trying to get a word in. Both Cat and Arya start talking again at once, and Jon curses inwardly. Can't they move to the kitchen or living room, or another fucking house??

Theon doesn't seem to be perturbed in the slightest, his fingers keep moving, working Jon open fast and good. Well, good enough, his cock would be better. As if reading Jon's impatient thoughts, Theon pulls away, not leaving Jon enough time to feel abandonded before he lines himself up.

Just then another voice reaches Jon's ears, Sansa asking her mother something. Great, if Sansa's home that means...

"Hey, mum!"

Robb. Well, now that the whole bunch is assembled they might finally fuck off to somewhere else. Instead, Robb starts chatting away happily about his day, in the bloody hall, while Theon has trouble staying upright and in position, his whole body shaking now.

But then suddenly he pushes, grunting quietly, while Jon is shoving his whole fist into his own mouth to stop himself from screaming out at the wonderful feeling of finally having this again, Theon's cock in him, Theon's arms around his waist, Theon's face buried in his hair.

His thrusts are shallow, not as hard or deep as Jon would wish for, but in this position nothing else is possible, it has to be enough. When Theon's hand finds his cock, starting to pump it in rhythm with his thrusts, Jon can barely contain a relieved sob.

Theon's movements in him are getting erratic all too soon, not that it matters, Jon is nearly there himself, and when Theon tenses and hot warmth floods his ass, Jon lets go and dives headfirst into an overwhelming orgasm, the first in weeks. He moans. Loud.

For a horrible moment it's dead quiet outside, then another moan - from the other side of the door - startles Jon so bad he jumps, feeling his thighs being smeared all over with Theon's cum. _What the..?_

"Robb, are you okay?" Cat asks, worried.

_Robb???_

"Yeah, just had a rough workout today."

Robb moans again, and Jon can't believe it. Does he... can he...

Meanwhile Theon has sunk to the closet floor, wheezing and chuckling as quietly as he manages. Jon feels weak from his release, and quite angry. He kicks Theon, hard, earning a sudden bite to his thigh. And then he has to cling to some large parka as Theon starts to lick him clean, _everywhere_.

In his dizzy state Jon notices Robb talking very loudly, and now he starts herding people away. Jon sighs in relief, then groans quietly when Theon finishes his cleaning job quite vigorously.

Finally he's sure everyone is gone. Jon pulls up his pants and, without looking at Theon, stumbles out of the closet.

"Snow?"

Theon's voice sounds amused, and when Jon turns around, the look in his eyes is too. With a quick check around the corner Theon quickly crosses over to him and draws Jon into his arms.

"My poor, noisy baby. Was it very hard for you?"

"Fuck you, Greyjoy," Jon mumbles into Theon's chest.

"Another time."

When Jon looks up, expecting a smug grin, he's completely floored by the soft expression on Theon's face.

"So," he starts, not knowing what to do, "Robb..."

"Knows." Now Theon does grin. "Course he does. He knew before us, probably."

Before them... Jon's thoughts are in turmoil.

"What exactly does Robb know?" he asks quietly.

"How much I wanted to do this," Theon says before bending down to claim Jon's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got any Greysnow prompts? Not that I don't already have a list as long as my arm, but you know.


	3. green green grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> silly little something floating around in my cloud. writing Theon as a huge jerk was fun :)

"I really wanna smoke up. Come on, Jon! Can't you go get some?"

They were standing in line at Starbucks, waiting to place their order. Ygritte had been whining about how she wanted to smoke pot for the best part of the afternoon now, and Jon was getting tired of it.

"Then why don't you get some?"

"Because my dealer is away on holidays. Come on, Jon Snow. Your brother is best friends with Greyjoy, just buy us some!"  
  
Jon reeled back.

"Greyjoy? I wouldn't go near him with a ten-foot-pole, that guy's the biggest... oh fuck."

Ygritte turned around to see where Jon was staring and chuckled.

"Speak of the devil..."

Devil indeed, Jon thought as he watched Greyjoy walk straight past the line, his face angry, a Starbucks cup in his hand. He slammed it down in front of the startled barista.  
  
"Are you stupid??"

"I'm sorry, Sir-"

"Shut the fuck up and listen, you dumb bitch. I wanted hazelnut. HAY-ZUL-NUT!!! And what do you think is in there, huh??"

The barista had moved a step back. Her voice was trembling. 

"I'm sorry, Sir, I don't kno-"

"Sorry, Sir," Greyjoy mocked her in a high-pitched voice. "You idiot girl, it's MACADAMIA!!! Do you want to kill me? This tastes like shit!!! Maybe you should go back to coffee-idiot-school!!"  
  
He took his coffee, pulled the lid and slowly emptied the cup's contents over the counter. He threw the empty cup at the sobbing barista and left with a last, "Fuck you!"

Jon stood, his mouth open while the couple in front of him did their best to comfort the still crying girl. He turned to Ygritte.

"No fucking way!"  
  
***  
  
Two days later Jon found himself in front of Greyjoy's door. Of course Ygritte had worn him down in the end. He rang the bell. Please don't be home, please don't be -

His litany was abruptly interrupted when the door swung open and he found himself face to face with Greyjoy. He looked mildly surprised. Jon cringed.

"Hey, I'm..."

"Snow. Robb Stark's half-brother."

Jon frowned. He knew his name? Greyjoy rolled his eyes.

"Come on in then. I don't wanna stand in the open door all day."   
  
He turned and left Jon staring after him. After a second he followed, closing the door behind him. Greyjoy had sat down on an expensive looking couch, regarding Jon with narrowed eyes.

"What'll it be? Pre-rolled? Or does your redhead girlfriend wanna smoke a bowl?"

Jon was baffled.

"How do you know what I'm here for?"

Greyjoy laughed.

"Certainly not my company. I gathered you or the little firecracker would show up sooner or later since Tormund's away. She needled you into it?" He sighed. "Sit down for fuck's sake."  
  
Jon sat down on an equally expensive looking chair, perching on the edge.

"Bowl I guess? I don't - I'm not smoking."

Greyjoy sniggered.

"Yeah, everybody knows that. Even if you're not a real Stark. Robb is just the same. Well, you've got a problem there, Snow."

Jon frowned.

"Why's that?" Greyjoy leaned forward, grinning widely. Jon shuddered. "I only sell to people I know can handle their weed."

"But apparently you do know Ygritte can," Jon protested.

Greyjoy raised an eyebrow arrogantly.

"And who says she's really gonna get it? How can I be sure you won't keep it?"

Jon huffed in exasperation.

"You just said you know of Ygritte and that I would never..."

Greyjoy smirked.

"Still. My weed, my rules. And tell you what - for seeing righteous, horse-faced Jim Snow stoned I'll give you 3 grams for free. That'd be worth it."

"My name is Jon!!"

Greyjoy shrugged. "Hardly any better."  
  
Jon seriously thought of just leaving. Horrible prick! Then he thought of telling Ygritte of his failure, which was a truly scary thought. He swallowed, trying to be cool that one time in his life.

"Bring it on then. But a joint, not a bowl. I'd rather not buy you a new chair because I vomited on this one."

Greyjoy grinned and got up, rummaging around on a shelf behind Jon. He came back with two joints and held one out to Jon's lips.

"No one pukes from my weed, Snow. A plus quality."  

He lit Jon's joint.

"Inhale, hold, exhale. Slow. Try not to cough. Now come on, purse your lips. Shouldn't be hard with a mouth like that. Mother's side, eh? Lips like these, no wonder old man Stark forgot about his ball and chain. Come on, baby, hollow your cheeks for me."

Jon bristled, inhaling deeply. He felt his cheeks redden. What an unbelievable ass. Then the smoke hit his lungs, burning him up. He held it as long as he could before exhaling in a long huff.  
  
Greyjoy raised an eyebrow as he sat down opposite Jon again.

"Impressive. Our little weed virgin is a natural. I wonder if you're good at anything you do for the first time."

He leaned back, watched Jon take another long draw. Jon felt angry. Good. Angry in a good way. Greyjoy grinned.

"Ever sucked cock before, Joe?"

Jon blinked.

"Jon. No. You?"

"Sure. Gotta tell you, I'm normally the one getting blown. But as much as I'd love to et sucked off now - I generally don't take advantage of boys who are stoned for the first time."  
  
Was there something wrong with his ears? Jon shook his head experimentally. Huh.

"Did you just propose to suck my dick?”

“Yep. Any objections?”

Jon looked down. His trousers were open, his fly down. How had that happened? He looked over at Greyjoy who was still sitting in the same spot as before, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“I take that as, no objections.”

Jon took another draw of his rapidly shrinking joint. He closed his eyes seconds before his mind and body exploded.

***

Greyjoy brought him to the door, a little package safely tucked away in Jon’s pocket. He still felt dizzy, his knees still wobbly from coming so hard he had nearly upended his chair.

Greyjoy lingered in the doorway.

“Hey, Snow. Do me a favour.”

Jon looked at him expectantly.

“Don’t tell Robb, okay? He’s the only friend I have and I’d rather have him not wanting to kill me.”

Jon nodded and turned to leave.

“Snow?”

Jon turned back.

“See you tomorrow.”

Jon snorted, waving dismissively. Definitely, a hundred percent NOT.   In his head he started counting the hours. 


	4. Captive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... hi!
> 
> A little explanation...  
> I do have this silly little headcanon where everyone thinks Jon has gone to the Wall when really Theon keeps him "captive" in his chamber, unbeknownst by everyone else. Well, maybe except one of the servant girls Theon has charmed/fucked before. 
> 
> So, this is a scene from this headcanon, ending in the inevitable sap. 
> 
> Sorry!!! (not sorry??)

"Time for dinner, sweetling."  
  
Jon lifts his head, confused. Is it time already? As if to assure him that it is indeed time, his stomach growls audible enough for his captor to smile ruefully.   
  
"I'm sorry, I should've brought you something during the day, but Robb wanted to go riding in the Wolfswood. Are you very hungry?"  
  
Jon's stomach growls again, making a reply unneccessary. Not that he could reply if he wanted to, his throat is too dry, aching and sore. Theon seems to sense his distress, he puts the tray he's holding down to grab a cup and a jug from the table, pouring some water and holding it to Jon's lips.  
  
"Drink. Slowly, don't rush. There." Theon puts the cup aside and swipes a spilt drop from Jon's chin. "I couldn't say no, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise."  
  
Jon tries a weak half smile. If Robb wants him, Theon cannot refuse. Be it riding or drinking or _anything_ really, he is Theon's lord and Theon has to follow his orders. Jon doesn't blame him for this.  
  
"I'm hungry," he whispers, slightly distracted by Theon's thumb now outlining his lips. To emphasize his point, Jon opens his mouth and draws it in, sucking on it greedily.  
  
Theon moans, eyes heavy lidded and dark. "In a minute. First, let's get some food into you." He gets up, rather reluctantly removing his thumb from Jon's mouth, and returns with the tray.  
  
He takes a piece of bread in hand and dips it into a steaming bowl smelling like mutton stew. Jon closes his eyes in rapture. His favourite! He opens his mouth, awaiting the first, delicious bite Theon is feeding him.  
  
Bit after bit he eats the whole bread, the whole bowl, obediently licking Theon's fingers clean after every turn. "What now?" he asks when he's swallowed the last of the bread.  
  
"Your reward," Theon smirks, "for eating like a good boy." He leans forward, brushing his lips over Jon's, once, twice, until Jon can't hold back anymore and opens his mouth with a tiny moan.  
  
"Greedy boy," Theon mumbles against his skin before relenting and letting his tongue glide into Jon's mouth. He licks and nibbles, pulling back before Jon can properly kiss him back, stroking his cheek gently. "More later. Now some cheese, yes?"  
  
Jon nods, eager for more, more food, more kisses. Theon holds out another cup, honey-sweet mead this time. And despite him being already used to drink without using his hands, Jon gulps too greedily, spilling some mead that trickles down his chin, his neck, his chest.  
  
"Messy, hm?" Theon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, I can't let honey dry on your skin, that'd get itchy." He bows his head and licks, starting from Jon's chest, up his neck where he pauses to work a bruise into Jon's skin, to his chin. He gives it a quick bite, laughing at the shudder going through Jon at that.  
  
Theon leans back again, grabbing a slice of cheese and a slice of fruit cake, alternately offering Jon pieces of each. When he's finished both, Jon opens his mouth, ready to clean Theon's fingers again, but Theon shakes his head.  
  
"After dessert, alright?"  
  
Dessert? Jon wonders. There hasn't been any dessert since Lady Stark has left as well, despite Robb and Theon both having a sweet tooth. Jon does too, but his wishes don't matter, seeing as he shouldn't even be here.  
  
Smiling widely, Theon turns to the tray again, taking a bowl covered with a cloth in hand, holding it out to Jon. "Ready?" he asks, and Jon nods. With a grand gesture Theon reveals the content of the bowl and Jon squeals in joy.  
  
"Strawberries! And cream! Theon, how..?"  
  
"Don't you mind that," Theon shushes him, obviously pleased with his successful surprise. "I wanted to spoil you tonight. Did you know it's been three months since you joined the Night's Watch?"  
  
Jon shakes his head in disbelief, curls flying. Three months! It seems like a week, or an eternity, he couldn't say which. Somehow he can hardly remember his life ever being different, nor can he think of wanting anything else in the future.  
  
One after the other Theon feeds him the strawberries, thick with cream. Their taste explodes in Jon's mouth, ripe and sweet, made even sweeter by the tiny kisses Theon deals him in between.  
  
When he's done, Jon's mouth feels sticky, and Theon grins at him in fond exasperation. "Look at you, all messy again." He tilts his head, hand already searching for the cloth before he laughs. "Just kidding," he says and leans in to lick and suck Jon's mouth clean.  
  
Despite this delicious treatment Jon is getting restless, his cock has started to stir the moment he'd heard the key in the lock, and by now he's achingly hard. "Now?" he asks, slightly breathless.  
  
Theon studies him for a moment. "Shall I keep you tied up? Or untie you?"  
  
Jon thinks about it for a moment. "Untie me, please," he decides, "since you said it's three months today... I want to be able to touch you."  
  
With a last kiss Theon moves aside to open the knots tying Jon's hands loosely to the posts of Theon's bed. They're really not that tight, and Jon could probably free himself if he intended to. But he prefers to believe he cannot, that he's Theon's captive, not a willing bedwarmer who'd been too weak to go north.  
  
Theon stretches out on the bed, opening his arms and Jon immediately sinks into them, relishing the warmth, the closeness. Theon is hard too, and Jon's hand finds him slick and ready. He strokes his length a couple of times, revelling in Theon's moans and the look of utter abandon on his face.  
  
His eyes never leaving Jon's face, Theon passes him the little flask of flaxseed oil. Jon thinks for a second, then, instead of slicking his own fingers to prepare himself he pours the oil directly on Theon's cock, drawing a confused groan from him as he strokes him again once, before getting up on his knees, bracketing Theon's lap.  
  
"Jon..."  
  
Theon's sigh turns into a gasp, then a cry as Jon lifts his hips and slowly sheaths himself on Theon's length. He bites his lip, gaze locked on Theon's as he starts to move. At first, Theon seems too stunned to react, but soon his hands start grabbing Jon's arse, squeezing it before wandering up over his sides to his chest, grazing his nipples and down again.  
  
Jon rocks his hips faster, coming down harder, and now Theon starts thrusting up too, their bodies move together so well, all slick and slippery heat, building and building until Jon throws his head back, wrapping a shaky hand around his cock, and all it takes is one jerk before he spills with a groan, long white streaks painting Theon's stomach and chest.  
  
With a wild look in his eyes Theon bucks Jon off, flipping him onto his back and gliding into him again. And now he really starts fucking, he fucks Jon so hard he has to cling to Theon's sweat-slicked shoulders to ground himself, shock after shock running through him until Theon tenses.  
  
"Never let me leave," Jon whispers as Theon's seed fills him, warm and wet.  
  
He doesn't reply, and Jon isn't even sure he's heard him, but when Theon sinks down on him, falling into a light slumber, his arms wrap around Jon tightly, as if he'll never let go.  



	5. No Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon takes Jon to a fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in between the huge angst that writing the Vamp AU is, I really needed some sweetness. 
> 
> This little thing was prompted by @half_life, thank youuuuuu  
> You, dear, are invaluable.

This feels so strange. Though, Theon has to confess, strange in a kind of nice way. And it’s a first, like so many things are with Jon.  _ Jon _ , for fuck’s sake. Theon peers down at where their fingers are linked and experimentally rubs his thumb over the back of Jon’s hand, earning a glance from the side and the hint of a smile. Not too bad, all in all.

The ground they’re walking on is soft, grass covered with wood shavings and sawdust, the sun is low in the sky and it is warm. The air is filled with the scents of childhood, candyfloss and fries and caramel apples and hot dogs, and the music from the speakers adds to the so familiar atmosphere. 

Fun fair. 

And yet it’s nothing like any fair Theon’s ever visited, first with his parents, with Ron and Rod and Ash, later with Ned and Cat and the whole gaggle of Stark kids, then only Robb, or Robb and Robb’s friends, or Robb and Snow. Jon, Theon corrects himself internally. 

He’s still not sure if there’s been a lightbulb moment or if it’s always been there in a way. Now in hindsight it is somehow obvious, how he’s always been hyper aware of everything Jon was doing, how he’s always watched Jon’s every move, allegedly to not miss any opportunity to make fun of him. Now, with things having taken this turn, it’s clear. He’s always just wanted Jon’s attention. 

And now that he’s finally got it - he’s nervous. After all it’s  _ Jon _ and not some silly girl he has to cozy up to to get into her pants, or some dim guy he’s pulling in a shady dive bar. This is his boyfriend. Who looks about as comfortable as Theon feels right now, that is, not very. 

Of course they’ve gone out before, have been to the cinema, or to a club, have gone for lunch and all that. But never alone, always with someone else there. Robb, trying his hardest to act like it’s a completely regular thing that his best friend and cousin are dating. Or Arya, glaring daggers at Theon while not very subtly cracking her knuckles.

This now is the first solo outing, just the two of them since that awkward conversation where they agreed on officially  _ dating.  _ And the problem is: Theon has no idea how to behave as a boyfriend. The hand holding is a good start, and Theon smiles to himself as he thinks of Jon’s face when he took his hand. Surprised, then cautiously happy. 

They pass a stand with candyfloss, and Theon can see Jon looking over. Why not, he thinks, that’s what a boyfriend would do. He squeezes Jon’s hand a little, and when he looks up at Theon questioningly he nods at the stand.

“Do you want some?”

For a moment Jon studies his face before shrugging, a tiny smile on his lips. 

“Yeah, why not.”

They go over and Theon angles for one of the gingerbread hearts hanging on a rack while Jon is trying to decide on a flavour. “Blue, please,” he finally says, and Theon waves the heart behind his back, a finger to his lips. The man preparing the candyfloss winks, handing a fluffy blue sugar cloud to Jon. 

“Twenty, please.”

“WHAT?” Jon sounds outraged as he turns around. “That’s impossible it’s just a… just a…” He’s spied the gingerbread heart in Theon’s hand and eyes it suspiciously. It’s saying  _ For my Sweetheart _ , and Jon glowers. “Greyjoy… you wouldn’t dare.”

“Wear it like a man, Snow,” Theon grins as he hands the man a twenty. “You’ll look so cute with it.”

Ignoring Jon’s feeble protests he manoeuvres the ribbon the heart is attached to over his head and leans in to kiss him lightly on his pout, tasting of sugar. So far, Theon thinks, he’s doing very well in the boyfriend role. 

Grabbing Jon’s hand again, Theon ignores Jon’s frown and tows him along, passing a merry-go-round and a couple of tents with ominous signs like, The Bearded Woman, or, The Strongest Man Alive. Until Theon catches sight of something else. A rifle shooting stand - and a giant pink unicorn hanging from the roof of the stand. Jackpot. 

“You look like a man who knows how to handle a weapon,” the bare-chested guy in the stand shouts, having caught on Theon’s interest. “Five shots for a tenner, hit the bullseye at least three times and you have your pick of the prizes.”

Perfect. Grinning, Theon strolls over, dragging a very unwilling Jon along until they’ve reached the guy who loads the rifle and holds it out to Theon. 

“Aim well to win your lovely companion’s favour.” 

He winks at Jon who blushes slightly. Theon snorts. Aha? Well, he’ll show that obnoxious guy who thinks he can flirt with his boyfriend. Theon takes the rifle up to his face, aims and - misses. A chuckle has him look over where the guy is leaning against the counter, suspiciously close to Jon.

“Next time,” the guy says nonchalantly, then turns to Jon. “What’s your name, handsome?” Disbelieving, Theon glares at him, receiving a wide grin in return. “More shooting, less staring, mate.” 

For a moment Theon contemplates just attacking that douche, but a glance at the douche’s bare arms, muscles bulging, has him decide against it. Instead he shoots again, missing the bullseye narrowly. Damn. 

“You know, I currently hold the title of Best Gunman in Westeros,” douche guy drawls, and angrily Theon fires another two shots, both ending up somewhere on the far left of the target. 

“Really? Wow, that’s cool!” comes Jon’s much too animated reply, and Theon’s last shot goes into the roof of the stand as he surges around to find Jon leaning against the counter as well now -  _ nibbling at the damn heart!!!  _

Douche guy doesn’t take his eyes off Jon, he raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Not much of a gunsman, your friend, eh? If you wanna know what a  _ real _ man can do…?” 

Jon grins back at him. Theon seethes. Real man??? Does that make him imaginary now? With an angry snarl he slaps another ten bucks right between Jon and the guy, who cocks his head. 

“You sure you want to embarrass yourself some more in front of your friend?” he asks while reloading the rifle.

“Boyfriend!” Theon hisses, suddenly having no problems whatsoever with that level. “And now fuck off!”

He rips the rifle up and shoots twice, both bullets going straight in the bullseye. Ha! And it pays off immediately, Jon comes over to stand beside Theon. “Not bad,” he says, casually resting his hand on Theon’s backside. “One more and you have it.” He leans in just as Theon aims, and breathes, “Concentrate,” against his ear. 

Pang! Pang! Pang!

All three shots have missed the target, and to Jon’s quiet chuckling the douche guy offers Theon a cheap plastic rose, giving it to Jon when Theon just glares. Jon accepts it with a grin. 

“Thanks. Don’t worry, Theon,” he turns to look at Theon with an innocent expression, “I’ll get your desired prize for you.” Before anyone can say or do anything he’s grabbed the rifle, loaded it and fired five shots straight into the bullseye, then holds out a tenner to the stunned guy. Jon turns to Theon. 

“So, I saw you looking at that unicorn, right? We’ll have the unicorn,” he tells an open-mouthed douche guy. 

Douche guy climbs on a chair and unties the huge plush beast, handing it over to Jon. “Wow. Just wow. My name’s Gendry. Can I have your phone number?”

_ What the fuck??! _

Up until now Theon has been too flabbergasted to do anything than watch the whole scene unfold, but now he very abruptly comes to life. Stronger than him or not, this guy is going to get a fist in his face right fucking now! Before he can carry out his intention, Jon quickly shoves the unicorn at Theon, shaking his head. 

“Sorry, mate. I’m taken. And you,” he finishes with a side glance at Theon, “stop the pubescence behaviour. For thinking I’d run away with another guy you deserve to lug this around for the rest of the day.”

With that he stalks away, giving the douche guy a little wave. Glowering at him a last time, Theon quickly follows Jon, trying not to drop the fucking unicorn. He catches up to Jon at a bench, and sits down next to him. Jon has his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking, and Theon nudges him with his elbow.

“Hey, Snow… You’re not really mad at me, are you?”

Jon’s face appears between his fingers. He’s laughing, his cheeks red and his eyes glittering. “Theon, you should’ve seen yourself. All outraged when you thought I was flirting with that Gendry guy.”

“You were,” Theon grumbles, secretly relieved. “And he looked at you as if you were something to eat.” 

Jon shakes his head. “You’re an idiot. Do you really think, after all this time it took you to confess that you like me, that I’d just merrily skip away with some admittedly hot stranger? I’ve had a crush on you since I was fourteen.”

He lets his hands sink and Theon reflexively drops the unicorn to take them, leaning forward to kiss Jon. It’s a long, sweet kiss, meant to convey all the things Theon wants to say. Like, I like you. A lot. 

“One thing, Snow,” he mumbles, kissing Jon’s nose. “This thing is going to live in  _ your  _ room.” Another kiss to Jon’s temple. “But not in your bed.” A last, long kiss, open-mouthed and hungry. “I’m a messy sleeper.”


	6. Football

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lovely prompt by dear @half_life and the rubbish I came up with.
> 
> It's thirty fucking five degrees here at 8am and I'm dying.

“He’s touching him. I can totally see he’s doing it on purpose.”

Theon can feel Robb’s amused look without having to turn aside. Not that he would, he has to keep his eyes on his boyfriend getting groped on the football field by the opposing team’s defense tackle, a six foot six monster without neck but with all the larger hands.

And very grabby hands at that. Theon doesn’t know shit about football rules, but he’s pretty sure a defense player should not go massaging the other team’s quarterback’s arse. Or touch any body part really. 

When the play is done and the teams do that unavoidable, clichey huddle thing, Theon relaxes a little, leaning back. Having to watch a football game on a sunny Friday afternoon is bad enough, college playoffs of all things, but things are even worse when Jon’s team is playing the city’s only rivaling team. 

“You ought to stop glaring like that. Or do you want Jon to see you and give you a lecture about jealousy issues again?”

Theon shrugs, not in the slightest inclined to answer Robb’s question. No, actually he does  _ not _ want that. Jon’s lectures tend to be very long and very strict and a fucking turn-on, which is mean, really, because Jon’s never up for a tumble in the sheets afterwards. 

So, to avoid that sad situation Theon hides his eyes behind his favourite pair of sunglasses and leans back, much to Robb’s amusement. It isn’t even hard to maintain a poker face when you know no one can see your eyes burning with the heat of a thousand furnaces - Theon surges up.

Jon, the ball in his hands, runs like Forrest Gump, it looks like a touchdown, when suddenly he’s pushed to the ground by the defense monster, now lying sprawled out on top of Jon and -  _ is that guy down there dry humping his boyfriend???? _

“Theon? Where are you going?”

“Down there,” Theon growls back over his shoulder, “I suggest you drive back alone. I have a bone to pick with my  _ boyfriend _ .”

In the end it’s only coach Thorne’s death stare holding Theon back from just entering the field and dragging Jon out by his little plush ears to give him the scolding of a lifetime. Fortunately the game is over soon enough and Jon comes trotting over, removing his helmet to reveal sweaty curls and a flushed face. He’s grinning, so Theon guesses they’ve won. 

“Hey,” Jon pants as he comes to a stop in front of Theon. “Since when are you waiting here and not at the car?”

Theon shrugs, both hands deeply buried in his pockets. He doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth without starting to yell some very creative curses. Jon’s smile falters, he seems confused. 

“Alright… I’m going to grab a shower, meet you here in ten?”

Theon’s arm shoots forward, grabbing Jon’s wrist. At Jon’s questioning look he can feel his rage maximizing. How can he act like nothing’s happened?? Well, he won’t be looking like this in a minute.

Determined, Theon drags Jon with him, past the door leading to the showers and locker room, to the small tear in the banners covering the audience stands. He pulls Jon through, crowding him against a wooden pole, hard enough to hurt himself on Jon’s gear he’s still wearing.

Theon doesn’t care, his hands already fumbling with his fly while he kisses Jon as hard as he dares, attacking him with lips and teeth and tongue until Jon breaks away with a gasp, licking his swollen bottom lip. 

“Theon, what-”

“Off,” Theon growls, his hands ripping at Jon’s jersey now, impatient to finally feel him under his fingers. 

“Alright, alright!” Jon pulls the jersey over his head, followed by the rest of his gear. “But wouldn’t it be better if I showered first, I’m full of grass and mud and I’m sweating my arse off and-”

“Shut up!”

Theon wraps a hand around Jon’s neck, drawing him into another bruising kiss before shoving him down, hard. Too surprised to fight back Jon drops to his knees, staring at Theon’s hard cock jutting out of his pants.

“Theon??”

“Shut up, I said! Suck!”

In the course of one heartbeat Jon’s expression changes from confused to absolutely murderous, so much so Theon’s scared Jon’ll bite his cock off right then and there. Instead, after a moment of frozen silence, he shrugs, leans forward and takes Theon in his mouth. 

Theon groans, his grip tightening on Jon’s neck. This is so good, Jon’s skilled mouth, hot and wet and perfect, but right now it isn’t what he wants, not what Theon needs. 

“Hold still,” he pants and Jon does, mouth open, motionless, hands loosely by his side. 

“Fuck,” Theon grits and starts fucking Jon’s mouth, cautious at first, but soon picking up speed. 

Jon stays still, just glaring up at Theon, his eyes glittering darkly, signaling an impending danger Theon cannot care for right now as he quickens his thrusts, starting to hit the back of Jon’s throat, making him gag slightly, but still Jon doesn’t move. His mouth is hot, so wet, so good…

“You let that monster touch you.” 

Theon hisses as he digs his fingers into Jon’s neck and pushes him forward onto his cock, and this time Jon’s gagging in earnest, tears springing to his eyes as he grips onto Theon’s thighs with both hands. Theon laughs breathlessly, holding Jon in position. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen how he rubbed your arse,  _ my _ arse to be exact. You seem to have forgotten that you, your arse, your fucking pouty mouth, all of it is  _ mine _ and no one touches you except me!”

Jon’s answer is a long moan, he grows stiff against Theon and swallows around his cock convulsively, a full body shudder running through him that has Theon curse and spill down Jon’s throat in long, thick gushes. 

“Jon,” Theon gasps, trying to catch his breath, his legs feeling like jelly, “I fucking love you, Snow.”

Jon is resting his head against Theon’s thigh, panting, but now he looks up, a lopsided smile on his face. 

“Same, you jealous idiot,” he crows, voice hoarse. “Course I’m yours.”

With a chuckle Theon pulls Jon up to kiss him, gentle this time, then he pulls back and grins. 

“You’ve got grass lumps in your hair. How about a shower, hm?”

“Yeah, shower. I’ve come in my pants while still wearing my jockstrap,” Jon mumbles, cheeks flushing. Then his eyes take on that dangerous expression again, and this time Theon does shiver, tension building in his gut. “You know there’ll be hell for this to pay, Greyjoy,” Jon rasps before turning and leaving Theon alone. 

“I know,” Theon mumbles to himself. “Can’t wait.”


	7. Lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm practising smut-writing. So, here's just that. PWP.

Why did he agree to this again? A sentence that’s been going through Jon’s head a lot ever since this has started. And now in particular, with his hands tied together to the headboard above his bed, and a not-so-small plug stuffed snugly up his arse. 

Theon’s not there yet, he’s over in his room doing gods-know-what to ‘prepare’ himself for the night. Jon’s got no idea what on earth he’s got to do. It’s not as if it would take that long to lube up his cock, the only thing Jon can think of in terms of preparing, seeing as his own arse definitely doesn’t need any further stretching.

The plug really is quite big, not so much at the top but widening towards the bottom, wider than Theon’s cock for sure at its thickest point. It’s not fully inside, just as much as Jon is willing to do to himself before getting to the real thing.

Just now the real thing is finally making his grand entrance, strolling casually through the door with a look of utter nonchalance. Jon wants to kick him in the nose immediately. Theon looks all relaxed while he’s been unable to touch himself, with the constant stimulation from his backside… 

“You’ve taken your sweet time,” Jon mutters, glowering at Theon. “I can’t feel my arms anymore and my hands and my-”

“Do you still feel your arse?” Theon asks, one eyebrow arched inquiringly. “How about your cock?”

Grudgingly, Jon nods. He can feel his cock very much alright, hard as a rock and swollen and aching and in desperate need of attention. And somehow Theon doesn’t look as if he’s up to deliver said attention, much to Jon’s dismay.

He sits on the bed - rather strangely, balancing his weight on one asscheek and an outstretched arm, crossing his legs casually. His unoccupied hand sadly isn’t going anywhere near Jon’s cock, no, Theon chooses to fondle his own, equally-hard cock. Which doesn’t look lubed up at all, as Jon notes with suspicion. 

“You’re not going to fuck me dry, Greyjoy,” he says as threateningly as he can, which isn’t very with his hands tied and his dick bouncing about merrily with every word. 

Theon sighs heavily and shakes his head in gentle reproach. “You wound me. As if I’d ever do that, you should know me well enough. I’d at least lick you open, make you dripping before giving you the fuck of your lifetime.”

Jon rolls his eyes. Every time they fuck it is always the  _ fuck of a lifetime _ he’s about to receive, in Theon’s terms. Jon’s still unconvinced if Theon just likes to gloat and talk that much, or if he’s really of the opinion he’s  _ that _ good. Which, unfortunately, he is. It’s not like he’s making Jon see stars or faint with an overwhelming orgasm each and every time - he has, it definitely has happened, but surely not every single time they fuck. 

“Roll your eyes as much as you like, darling,” drawls Theon while settling himself over Jon’s lap, his dick not quite touching Jon’s. “They’ll roll back into your head as far as they go soon enough.”

“Less talking, more fucking,” Jon mutters, although he knows that’s just tilting at windmills. To get Theon to stop talking he’d have to either gag him, murder him, or fuck his mouth. Jon involuntarily moans at the thought. Theon’s big mouth stuffed with dick is something he’ll never get tired of seeing. And feeling.

Right now Jon’s dick is sadly still ignored, but at least Theon has started touching him now, a wet kiss on his neck, a startling suckle on his nipple, a graze of teeth at his earlobe - and Theon’s hands, stroking and massaging and teasing. He leans down and, accompanied by Jon’s moans and gasps, starts placing open-mouthed kisses and tiny bites from his stomach up to his chin, before finally taking Jon’s mouth. 

At the same moment that his tongue slips in Jon’s mouth, Theon lifts his hips and - holy mother of all that’s good and right - sinks down onto Jon’s dick in a smooth, long glide, the force of it impaling Jon further on the plug in his arse, and now he’s definitely seeing stars as the thing rubs against his prostate.

This is something Jon hasn’t experienced before, it’s nearly too much, the slick, tight heat of Theon’s arse, the stretch in his own, a constant overstimulation of all his nerves - it has Jon crying out into Theon’s mouth, panting, nearly sobbing as every move of Theon’s hips pushes the plug deeper, his dick to the hilt buried, it is too much, he can’t, he just can’t!!

The muscles in Jon’s arms feel like they’ll burst with the effort to break free but it’s impossible, he cannot move, cannot put his hands on Theon, has no control whatsoever, is at his mercy - and Theon isn’t merciful tonight. 

Wilder and harder he rocks down on Jon, leaning back now, his eyes closed, his hair sticking to his forehead as he fucks himself on Jon’s cock - he’s so beautiful Jon could die like this and not regret it being the last thing he sees and feels. 

Jon is now constantly whimpering, moaning, gasping, a stream of sounds he’s not able to control. His arse is stretched around the plug, is swallowing it in while Theon sheats himself again and again, and suddenly he falls forward, digging his fingers into Jon’s chest and raking them down while he screams out. 

The pain of Theon’s blunt nails scraping over his skin for a moment overrides all other sensations, but Theon comes down a last time and then he’s coming hard onto Jon’s stomach, painting the angry red lines with warm, white streaks, he reaches back and between Jon’s legs, pulling at the plug, just a little, Jon shudders from head to toe, Theon rams it back in-- 

Awareness fades back in slowly, something cold and sticky on his stomach, his arms untied, an empty feeling in his arse, a warm weight by his side and a nose buried in the crook of his neck. 

“Fuck of your lifetime,” Theon mumbles in Jon’s ear, and really, Jon cannot argue with that. 


	8. Pillow Fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey!
> 
> This is just a small something for @half_life - Happy Birthday, dearie!!!! I hope you like this.

“SNOOOOOW!!”

Jon cringes as Theon’s loud shout filters into the haze of numbers and statistics he’s digging through. The report has to be done by Monday, it’s Friday evening and there’s absolutely no time for whatever Theon wants. Shouldn’t he be out with the others anyway?

“Hey, why are you not answering?”

Theon again, now coming in to stand beside Jon’s desk, looking down at him with crossed arms and apparent displeasure. Jon throws him a withering glare, at least he hopes it is withering, then proceeds to rub his eyes. Damn, he’s tired. 

It’s been a shit day, cold and rainy and full of obnoxious people, on the way to work, at work, on the way back from work, and then even at home. Jon sighs. He’s got the king of all headaches creeping up, he’s got a weekend full of chores ahead of him, and he’s definitely not in the mood for whatever it is Theon wants now. Which can only be one thing, truly. 

“I thought you’d gone out with Robb and Sansa,” he mutters. 

“Told them I have a stomach ache,” Theon says lightly, placing a hand on Jon’s neck and stroking the fine hair at his nape. Fuck off, Jon wants to say. It’s not that he doesn’t like this, he likes everything they’re doing, but this usually leads to sex, and if there’s one thing Jon doesn’t have the energy for today it’s sex with Theon.

Which he normally loves, honestly, and if it were for him they wouldn’t sneak around like that and just be open about it. But that’s not Theon’s style, and Jon has accepted the fact that this is all they might be. That this is all that Theon wants. But not today. He’s just too tired. 

“What did Robb say?” he asks, swiveling round in his chair to inconspicuously sneak out from under Theon’s hand. “I bet he wasn’t amused that it’s just Sansa and him.”

“They’re meeting Dacey and Val, and some of the other guys. Torrh, maybe. Robb will be fine.” Stubbornly Theon takes a step and buries a hand in Jon’s hair again. It feels so nice that Jon decides to let it slide for just a moment. “And he said,” Theon continues, “tell stomach ache it’s his turn to feed the fish tonight.” 

“Fuck,” Jon groans, leaning into the touch, just for a moment, really. “I forgot the fish. Better get to it now before I forget again.” 

“All taken care of,” Theon says, pulling his hand back. Jon bites back a wistful sigh at the loss. “But could you come down for a minute? I need you to look at something.”

“Theon, I swear to god, if the thing I have to look at is your dick I am going to take it away from you.”

“Wow.” Theon looks at Jon, the picture of wounded innocence. “I don’t know what I have done that you’re being so grumpy, but okay. I just thought, we’re having the house to ourselves tonight, we could--”

“I don’t want to fuck,” Jon interrupts him, his voice a lot harsher than he intended. Harsh enough to have Theon flinching for real this time, and Jon immediately regrets it. “I mean, I’m sorry, I’m just tired, okay? Maybe if you give me another hour I could finish this here and make myself a coffee and then we could…”

He trails off when he notices the look of contempt on Theon’s face. “Whatever,” Theon says, shrugging quite forcefully. “Do what you have to do. If you want anything I’ll be in my room.”

And with that he turns abruptly and walks out, leaving Jon behind with the first tell-tale pounding of the dreaded headache. And a massive amount of guilt. With burning eyes he turns his attention back on his report, but after having read the same line three times and still making zero sense of it, he decides that maybe the coffee cannot wait. 

Jon shuffles to his feet and drags his lame ass downstairs, pausing for a moment in front of Theon’s closed door, pondering if he should knock. But he’s just. So. Fucking. Tired. Jon places a hand on the door fleetingly. He’ll apologize once the reports and headaches and chores are behind him for this time. Maybe give him a surprise blowjob or something. 

He doesn’t turn on the light in the living room, so he doesn’t see it immediately, but when he comes back, balancing his cup, he just narrowly avoids running into it. For a moment, Jon just blinks. The street light coming in from the window is making gigantic shapes and it all looks like a weird-shaped, strange object - until it hits him. Jon reaches out carefully, until his hand touches the rough, worn wool of the family’s least favourite blanket. 

It’s a pillow fort. 

Theon has built him a pillow fort, and Jon has been mean to him, and suddenly he does feel a little like crying. Memories come crashing back, of other shit days, other pillow forts. The first one, when Jon had been five. 

A thoughtless teacher had made his class do mother’s day cards, and Jon had to make one too, despite having no mum, only Cat, and she already had Robb’s card to put on the fridge. Jon had come home in tears, clutching his card, too afraid to give it to Catelyn, and Theon, normally taking every opportunity for making fun of Jon, had noticed. And had built Jon a tiny pillow fort, only for him, not for Robb or Catelyn or anyone else. 

And then he’d done it again whenever Jon had been upset. 

The last time Theon had done it had been when Jon had been fourteen and his first crush Ygritte had moved away with her family. Theon, then sixteen and a cocky teen, had cancelled a movie night with his girl of the day, whoever that had been at the time, and had built another fort, grumbling how Jon was too old for this and that this would be the last time ever.

Which is now five years ago, and yet here it is, a pillow fort, just like it used to be. Jon crouches to look under the blanket that forms the top, but it’s too dark to see anything, so he uses his phone as a flashlight. 

It’s marvellous. On top of the carpet Theon has placed all the thick couch cushions, with Cat’s cashmere blanket draped over them and what looks like a couple of pillows and a duvet spread on top. Theon's pillows and duvet. The huge cover blanket is held by the two big arm chairs, forming a wonderful, cosy little cave. 

“I put Bran’s lava lamp in there so you can have a little light, if you want it to be dark outside.” 

Jon turns on his knees to look up at Theon, standing in the living room doorway, hands in his pockets, his face unreadable. He turns on the living room light and suddenly everything’s too bright, too visible. Jon blinks, and swallows. 

“Listen, Theon, I’m sorry for being such an idiot before. I thought you just wanted to fuck, and I’m just so tired, and… I’m sorry.” 

“Knew you’re tired.” Theon shrugs. “You looked like shit when you came in from work today and I thought… well, there you go.”

“Thanks,” Jon says quietly, then hesitates. “Would you like to come in?”

It’s the first time he’s asking him this, normally the fort was just for him to have a safe space and some alone time. But being alone just doesn’t sound as good as it did ten minutes ago, and Jon holds his breath as he studies Theon’s face, waiting for his reply. 

“I’d… yes.” Theon smiles lopsidedly. “Thanks.” 

Jon holds up the flap, waiting for Theon to crawl inside before following. It’s a little cramped with both of them in there, but it’s cosy and warm and comfortable, the light from outside dimmed through the blanket. Theon leans back against one of the pillows, regarding Jon with a faint hint of amusement. 

“Can I ask you to come here or will you start screaming again about not wanting sex?”

“Shut up,” Jon huffs, but obediently shuffles over until he’s curled up against Theon’s side, cheek resting on his chest, head tucked under his chin. “I told you I’m sorry, okay? How am I supposed to know that this is the day you decide that you want to be nice without getting sex in return?”

There’s a long pause, and Jon doesn’t dare to look up into Theon’s face. Finally he hears a sigh, and then Theon’s long fingers start carding through Jon’s hair. He’s starting to swirl them on Jon’s scalp, applying light pressure while every now and then carefully sifting through the curls, untangling a knot here and there, then going back to gently massaging. Jon wants to purr with pleasure.

“We don’t need to have sex every time we’re alone,” Theon says at length, his hands leaving Jon’s hair to take Jon firmly into his arms. “That’s not how it works. This is nice too. Just… being close I guess.” He groans, then chuckles. “Listen to me yapping such nonsense. Don’t mind me, really.” 

He bends his head a little and places a little kiss onto Jon’s head, burying his nose into Jon’s hair. “You’re doing things to me, Snow,” he whispers, and Jon’s heart stops for a moment before starting to beat again, a little faster now. 

Theon doesn’t say anything else so they just lie there, each caught up in their own thoughts, and Jon feels himself fully relax for the first time that day. Jon closes his eyes. Theon’s breath is washing over his head every couple of seconds, his arms are snugly wrapped around Jon and the silence between them feels light and natural. 

And then it hits him. “My report!” Jon shouts and surges up so fast he hits Theon’s chin with his head and they both cry out. 

“What report?” Theon whines, rubbing his poor chin. “Damn your rock hard skull, Snow, I think you shattered my jaw!”

“My report, for work,” Jon clarifies, pressing a hand to the throbbing spot on his head. “I need to finish it today. And you’re one to talk, Greyjoy. I think I have a hole in my head now.”

“Why on earth do you need to do the report today?” Theon seems baffled. “You have the whole weekend for that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jon grumbles. “Tomorrow I have a full day already. Sam is moving in with Gilly and I promised I’ll help, Edd has a gig in the evening which I told him I’ll come to, and on Sunday the whole gang is coming back from their trip and there won’t be a single second of peace and quiet in this house. I  _ have  _ to do it today.”

Jon notices how miserable his own voice sounds while he’s listing his duties and, predictably, Theon jumps straight at it. “You do know that you can say no once in a while, yeah? I mean, who’s coming to help Sam with his stuff?” 

“Grenn,” Jon mutters grudgingly. “And Pyp. And Cooper. And Donnel. And I think Tormund.” 

“So. There’s six capable guys - five, if you don’t want to count Sam - and not to mention Gilly. Who’s more capable than all of them together. And you really think they need you? What for exactly? Do you have some house moving superpower I don’t know about?”

“I’m their friend,” Jon says stubbornly, but he starts to feel cornered. Unfortunately, Theon has a point. 

“Yes, and they’re your friends. Do you really think they’d be mad at you for wanting to finish a work report?” Theon sounds smug, he knows he’s already won this bout. Jon knows it too. 

“Fine.  _ Fine. _ I’ll call Sam and tell him that I have to work. There, satisfied?” 

“A little.” Theon grins, dragging Jon back into the same position as before, immediately nudging his nose into Jon’s hair again. “Now I am.”

And despite being miffed at Theon for actually being the sensible one this time, and right and in the know and whatnot, Jon cannot help a smile. He closes his eyes again, letting himself drift off to the comforting movements of Theon’s chest under his cheek. He’s halfway gone when a thought flickers through his head. 

“Have to get out here before Robb and Sansa come home,” he mumbles. “Can’t see us.”

“Like fuck.” Jon barely registers Theon’s reply, the defiant tone. “They all know anyway.”

“Know what,” Jon more hums than says, hardly opening his mouth to speak. 

“That you’re... my Jon, I guess.”

Jon smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sap, anyone? *sigh*  
> It really is inevitable.


	9. I'll come back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for a prompt on tumblr: Things you said while we were driving.

"Are we there yet?”

He’s meant it as a joke, but while he’s still saying the words, Theon realizes how forced it sounds, childish and petulant. Jon isn’t reacting anyway, maybe his hands are tightening slightly on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say a word.

The silence makes Theon uncomfortable. It’s loaded with unspoken words and repressed accusations, many of which Theon is sure he doesn’t deserve. Some of them, he may does.

They’re nearly there, maybe fifteen minutes drive left to the airport, and time is running out. Jon will just drop him off, he won’t come inside. That’d be too much, he’d said, his long face dark, his brows furrowed. Theon can’t argue with that. Who knows what Jon would say at the worst possible moment.

“Do you want a blowjob?” Theon asks lightly, anything to perforate the silence. “Theoretically I should get one, as a proper send-off, but you know I am always willing to compromise.”

No answer, but Jon’s mouth tightens into a thin, disapproving line. Theon sighs.

“You know I’m coming back, Snow. Stop acting like I’m going off to war, leaving you preggers and homeless.”

Jon snorts, the corners of his mouth twitching, and Theon leaps at this tiny loophole in Jon’s gloomy demeanour.

“You would have to stand at the window all day, gazing out into the rain with hooded eyes, clutching our love-child to your chest - you could wrap a pumpkin in a blanket for that - and every few minutes you’ll have to sigh my name in the most heartbreaking manner possible–”

“Alright, shut it.” Jon’s voice is harsh, but his eyes crinkle at the corners. He gazes over, just a brief glance, but Theon knows his doubtful look. “You’ll come back.”

“I’ll come back,” Theon confirms, “horny as hell because my boyfriend doesn’t approve of skype-sex, not even when he thinks I’ll never make it through five weeks without.” He patronizingly pats Jon’s firm thigh. “Which I totally will because my boyfriend is the best in bed and there’s nothing like waiting for the best.”

Jon smiles, shaking his head. 

“Are we there yet?” Theon asks again, another question behind the spoken one.

Jon’s smile deepens. “Almost,” he says.


	10. Snow melts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one of those tumblr prompts. I love them :D

 Jon watches him all the time now. He tells himself it's because he doesn't trust him, but that is not the truth. Not all of it. He watches Theon now too, watches the shadows cast by the torch, flickering on his gaunt face, the light glittering on the silvery traces down his cheeks. 

 "I thought I might find you here," Jon finally says, coming closer. "You're down here every day." 

"I have no right to be," is the answer, Theon's calm voice a strange contrast to his face, contorted by guilt, and grief. "I apologize, Your Grace."

"Stop it," Jon mutters, closing the distance between them until he's standing next to Theon. "I don't want to be your king. Or anyone's."

"He didn't like that either," Theon says, reaching out with a gloved hand to wipe an invisible stain from the statue's somber forehead. Jon follows the movement. It looks like a caress. 

"Stop crying, Theon."  

"I think I have forgotten how to stop." Theon's face is hidden in the shadows now, his shoulders are trembling. "I should be dried out, but there are always more to come."

Jon hesitates, briefly glancing at the true King in the North's stony face, a great likeness, only missing the warmth those eyes had always looked on him with. Would Robb understand? Would he approve? 

Jon takes off his own fur-lined glove, lifting his hand until it's an inch from Theon's face. Theon stands very still, hardly even breathing. He doesn't flinch back, so Jon takes a half step, until his fingertips touch Theon's cold, wet cheek. 

"You've cried enough for the three of us." Jon smiles, slowly wiping his thumb over Theon's cheekbone. "That and the thawing snow will drown us if you don't watch it."

Theon exhales carefully, not moving a single muscle, letting Jon wipe away the fresh salt from under his eyes. He smiles, just a tiny flicker on his thin lips.

"Snow is melting," he says, "and I'll drown you all. My father would be so proud." 

Jon rolls his eyes, letting his fingers wander to stroke Theon's strawy hair behind his ear, his gaze wandering over to the statue again. Would Robb be shocked? Would he understand? 

Jon thinks he would. 


	11. What comes after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt! It got quite religiously and I'm not sure why bc generally I'm with Jon there

"We cannot win."

Theon’s voice hardly trembles, his whole body is still, rigid. Jon can feel it too, the fear creeping up on him, waiting to turn him into a frozen statue, an unmoving prey. But there’s something else too, like a fiery liquid surging through his veins, preventing him from giving up before it has started. 

“We will die.”

Theon does not have this thing that burns inside Jon like molten iron. But he’s right. They cannot win. They will die. So Jon nods. 

“Yes.”

He’s not afraid of dying, again. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it is dark and scary. But when this is over… the nothing is a soothing thought, to Jon. 

“It can’t be over,” Theon whispers beside him, mostly to himself. “It can’t be - all this shit for naught, all the pain, all the…” His swimming gaze focuses on Jon, sharpens. “This can’t just go away, Jon. Not after we just… not with us… Jon. Will it really be over? All of it?”

His eyes are huge in his face, pleading, he seems to be on the brink of crying. Jon doesn’t have to look aside to see the ice creeping closer, the mass of bodies emerging from the mist. Winterfell will fall, he knows it will, and they will die, and there will be nothing.

“I’m scared,” Theon says, voice papery-thin in the silence around them. 

For a moment Jon wants to tell him what he already knows, what everyone knows now. How there is nothing, how it will all just end. For Jon this is a good thing, welcoming and beautiful. Nothing is good.

Ghost is breathing on Jon’s other side, slow and calm, sometimes there’s a chinking and rustling when one of them moves. The Kingslayer clears his throat. They are ready for the unwinnable fight. But Theon isn’t ready for the nothing. 

“I lied,” Jon says. “I lied, Theon. About what comes after. I’ve seen it, it is beautiful. It is spring, not winter, you can hear birds sing and the soft, warm wind in the trees. Everyone is there, waiting for us. Father, Catelyn, my parents, Rickon… They are all there.”

“Will my father be there too?”

That is a hard one, but Jon smiles grimly. “Mayhaps. But this is a place to be happy, so if you don’t want to see him you won’t.” He hesitates. “Yara will be there.”

Theon’s eyes shine. “Will… will Robb be there? Will he forgive me?”

“Yes,” Jon says without hesitation, his voice stronger now. “He already has, you’ll be his brother once again. He’ll greet you there with open arms, and we’ll all be together like we were when we were young.”

“I will be a lot nicer to you than when we were young,” Theon says and smirks. 

“You better be. No matter who it is that goes first, we’ll find each other there. And then it will be forever.”

Their gloved hands touch, and somewhere behind them a heavy sigh resonates in the icy air. 

“Liar,” Theon says, still smiling, his voice stronger now. “But… Thank you.”

A screech high in the air sends chills down Jon’s spine. It begins. It all ends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me all the prompts lol  
> I desperately need distraction


	12. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon leaves for a training weekend - with his ex-boyfriend! Theon can't make that easy for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and Happy V-day for those who like it. I myself am still undecided, but hey it's an opportunity for fic :)
> 
> We're in the world of my Fighting AU, for those who know it. For those who don't, I recommed it (*winks*)
> 
> Now for this little thing I wanted something really romantic - and we all know there's nothing as romantic as a tentacle dildo :)
> 
> A big thank you to @Quicksilvermaid who made me aware of the existance of tentacle shaped dildos XD

“I still can’t believe you’re going to leave me!” 

Theon paces the length of the room, shooting Jon one wounded look after the other. Cersei, first only watching him with set-back ears and twitching tail, has now taken to following Theon up and down. 

“Could you stop with the dramatics?” Jon asks dryly. “It’s only a long weekend. You act as if I told you I’m going to run off with him.”

“Long weekend my ass,” Theon mumbles. “Long weekend full of naked skin, glistening with sweat, all those hormones swirling around the two of you - and I’m not there to fuck you the way you need and he’ll be there and you’ll never come back!”

“Theon, that’s complete, utter nons--”

“And what about  _ my _ ass? What am I supposed to do with  _ that?? _ ” 

Theon isn’t even thinking of letting Jon off the hook. Three days without him being able to supervise Jon and his ex-boyfriend, who’s married now and still sticking his tongue down Jon’s throat every time they meet!! Over his dead body!

“And for Valentine’s Day no less, you soulless monster!” Theon stops to glare at Jon, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Cersei immediately rubs against his ankles before lying down on Theon’s toes. “And what about my mother? What about Cersei? They will all pine for you like I will!”

“I very much doubt that,” Jon mutters, coolly raising one eyebrow. “The cat hates me and Lanny won’t even notice. About Valentine’s - you always say you hate it and want nothing to do with it. We never celebrate that.”

“Yes, yes, but normally you’re  _ here.”  _ Theon groans. “Do you think I want to go out alone? A dateless wonder? I’ll pine for you!  _ My ass will pine for you!!! _ ”

“I suggest staying home then. But, coincidentally I did get you a little something this year.” Jon bends to retrieve a box from under the chair, circling it in his hands. “Just a little consolation to make up for me not being here.”

Oh. Theon eyes the box curiously, but he can’t give in too fast, so he holds his hand out with an eye roll. Jon, totally seeing through him, hands it over with a grin. 

“I hope in here is a free pass to get down and dirty with my fellow grass widower,” Theon mutters, knowing perfectly well that Jon knows Theon is not the least interested in Pod, or anyone, that is. “I’m sure he’ll be pining as well.”

“Enough with the pining,” Jon huffs, “and now open it before I decide I’ll take it with me instead.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Theon grumbles while ripping of the gift wrap. Whatever this’ll be it can never make up for Jon’s skilled fingers and mouth and dick and-- “What the actual fuck, Snow?”

There, nestled in black tissue paper, lies a huge, dark blue, iridescent dildo. Shaped like a tentacle. Theon looks up into Jon’s grinning face, not believing his eyes, mouth hanging open and no idea what else to say. 

“I saw an ad for that on Facebook,” Jon says smugly, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “And since your family’s old coat of arms shows a kraken…”

“This…” Theon has finally found his voice again. “This is like in a hentai!”

“Apparently it makes a sucking sound when you move it very fast.” Jon sighs happily. “I nearly feel sad I won’t be here to watch you. Maybe… do you think you could tape it when you try it out and send me the vid?”

“Kinky bastard.”

Theon lets the box slide to the floor, taking a couple steps until he’s close to Jon’s chair, dropping to his knees in front of it, ignoring Cersei’s disgusted look she shoots him before fleeing the room. Theon tilts his head and studies the bulge in Jon’s trousers. 

“You want to watch me?” He opens Jon’s belt and fly, finding him hard and his pants already damp. “You want to watch me ride this thing while moaning out your name?”

Jon gasps as Theon’s fingers harshly drag over the outline of his dick, his head falls back and he closes his eyes.

“Tell you what, baby,” Theon mumbles, sliding down Jon’s pants and taking him in hand. “How about I fuck you so thoroughly even the  _ thought _ of something up your ass will make you cringe…” Jon moans as Theon slides two fingers inside his still slick hole at once. “...and every night you’re away I’ll put on a show for you while you stroke that pretty cock of yours…”

He bows his head and takes Jon in his mouth, unerringly pressing both fingers into Jon’s prostate, making him shiver from head to toe. Theon bobs his head quickly, adding a third finger, and with a harsh cry Jon tenses and spills warmly into Theon’s mouth. 

“I think…” Jon takes a deep breath, flinching a little when Theon gives his softening dick a last lick and pulls out of him, “I should go away with Gen more often if that is your reaction.” He smiles dizzily. “I love it when you’re jealous.”

Theon raises himself on his knees to meet Jon halfway as he bends down to kiss him. Of course he knows that he can trust Jon. But it can’t hurt to give Jon a little reminder who he’s really happy with. 

“Not as much as I love  _ you _ ,” Theon whispers, “never forget how I love you so fucking much.”

Jon blushes, and Theon smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei and I say thank you for reading! *wave*


End file.
